


Where Life Abides

by Lizardlicks



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Body Worship, Egg Laying, Eggpreg, F/M, Inflation, Mpreg, Oviposition, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Stuffing, Weird Biology, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 16:06:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardlicks/pseuds/Lizardlicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feferi returns home with a surprise for Sollux.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Life Abides

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [Ushaz](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ushauz)

It’s been too long since you’ve touched her.  Too many days with FF out walking the line between disaster and a new universal order as she sways more trolls to her side while you sit entrenched behind walls of monitors and server banks, watching and thwarting the movements of your enemies.  This is how you always knew it would be, at least while things were still limited to a homeworld based rebellion.  You have different skill sets, and while combined the two of you working together are a force of chaos and change to be reckoned with, rarely does that involve you actually being in the same place at the same time.  So when she’s finally home from an extended excursion for the first time in weeks, you make sure you’re the first one to greet her, beating all those other assholes in line who want to pull her attention in a dozen different directions at once with trivial shit that doesn’t really need the heiress’ personal attention anyway.  Fucking highbloods still playing court games.

 

She smiles when she sees you, so broad and full of joy you can feel it searing right through to your bones and melting you from the inside out.  Feferi brushes past her escort to bury herself in your arms, tips her head back to accept a teasing kiss from you and reaches up to dig her fingers into your hair and pull you in deeper.  Someone coughs behind you.

 

“My Empress, if I may-”

 

“You may not!” she laughs, and lets go of your head just to get her arms around your hips and haul you up off the ground.  Your squawked protests are only half-hearted; you really want to continue this elsewhere, so you let her carry you away down the hall and offer a double bird flip to anyone who tries to stop you.  

 

“You have something that needs fixing you can damn well bring it to me, bucket licker,” you hear KK snap at the idiot and mentally thank the shouty asshole for knowing when to run interference.  You never see who it was trying to interrupt your reunion and you decided you really don’t care.  Let him deal with an angry Vantas instead of bugging you. You have a matesprit to ravish.  

 

FF gets all the way back to your shared private chambers and kicks the door shut behind her before she sets you back on your feet and attacks your mouth again.  You don’t object.

 

“Missed you,” you purr against her temple and embrace her in your arms again when she lets you have a chance to breathe.

 

“Mm, you too.”  Feferi nuzzles against the hollow right above your collarbone that always makes you shiver and you knees feel wobbly.  Then her tongue is pressing to the spot, wet and cool and you really do have to lean your weight against her to keep from sinking to the ground.  She giggles and pokes you in the ribs.

 

“C’mon, I want a proper bath and then nothing more than you, our nice pile, and several uninterrupted hours alone.”  You can’t deny a request like that.  She stays tucked against your side as you guide her with your arm around her waist to the tiny washroom.

 

You know how she likes the temperature so you let her undress while you fill the trap for her.  The rustle of clothes stops and is replace by the soft pad of bare feet just as you’re dipping your hand into the water to test it.  You can feel the soft roundness of her rumblespheres pressing into your back as she drapes herself over you, coolness of her skin seeping through your shirt.  Yeah, that shirt has got to go.  Her lips close over the tip of your ear, and she sucks and lightly nips before whispering, “Help me with my hair?”

 

She doesn’t actually need help, but she knows you like it, and you’ve been dying to get your fingers into her gorgeous tresses, to thread silk soft strands through your hold and stroke your claws over her scalp, around her horn beds until she’s a sagging, purring lump of pleasure.  So of course you say yes and pat the side of the trap inviting her to sit beside you.  

 

FF sighs when her legs slide into the water, a heavy sound of relief.  She leans against your shoulder and swishes her feet in the warm heat, and your heart aches with pity.  You tracked her progress while she traveled, always do of course.  You can’t imagine the dusty miles she’s walked, all the long terrible moments of negotiation and tension where another step toward the progress of your coup, or a blood bath relied on the whims of another spoiled highblood or wary lowblood.  It makes you tired just thinking about it.

 

She keeps her long hair in a braid when traveling.  It’s easier for upkeep, but it drives you a little mad because she used to always let it be loose and free, just like her before this mess started.  Here in your sanctuary you can let it out and help her unwind.  You tug at the tie keeping the ends of the braid together until it falls away then start working the strands apart, taking time to wind little twists around your fingers as you go.  It falls around her shoulders in curling waves when you’re done, shaped by the captivity it was bound in for so long.  When her hair is freed you don’t hesitate to comb through it, gently tugging until her head falls back again and you can leave slow, trailing kisses from her mouth down her throat.  

 

“Mnng, Sollux...”  She moans your name like the syllables are a balm and that breathy sound sinks right down to your pelvis, makes your bulge pulse and stir with interest.  You trace her shoulder with your other hand, sliding down slow and deliberate to cup and squeeze one of her breasts in the palm and draw out more soft noises of approval.  You want to do this all night.  Touch her everywhere and make her feel loved and worshiped and safe because you can’t give her that when she’s gone.  No matter how strong or capable she is, you know there’s a chance that one day she won’t come back at all.  She’s the heiress, enemy of the throne, and all the powers entrenched there regardless of her claim to it as her hatch right.  While all of you walk this line, there’s an inescapable danger of being hunted down, rounded up, and strung out for the amusement of Her Imperious Condescension because you dared to challenge her at all.  The longer you can hide away in these moments you have with Feferi now, the longer it will carry you through your time apart so you can focus on the work you need to do.

 

As she wraps her arms around your neck and pulls you back for a deeper kiss your hand skates lower.  Fingertips trace every bump of bone and smooth stretch of muscle and skin, all her curves and dips in a desperate attempt to recommit every detail to memory before they fade again.  She purrs into your open mouth, presses her tongue right between the forks of yours and licks there until you whimper.  You’re so distracted by what she’s doing to your mouth and what that’s doing parts further south that you almost don’t notice the round curve of her belly just above her pelvis when your wandering hand moves over it.

 

That wasn’t there before.  You’re almost positive of that.

 

She breaks your kiss when you try to press at it and grabs your hand.

 

“Don’t.”  The command has a growl on its heels that make you instinctively snap to attention.  

 

“FF, what-”  The question sticks in your throat before you can ask it.  Is she hurt?  Did something happen while she was away?  The thing felt... it was wrong.  Not muscle or fat, but something under the skin.

 

She sags against you, no longer putting up a pretense of fighting exhaustion and you hug her tightly, afraid to let go.

 

“I’ll tell you later,” she promises you.  “Just let me have some time to relax, okay?”

 

“Sure, anything you need, babe.”  You help her into the tub and try to put it out of your mind until she’s ready.  For now, all you can do is make her feel comfortable and try not to worry about it.

 

 

* * *

 

FF is as good as her word of course.  Once she’s had a chance to soak and dry off, then let you get her cuddled into a naked tangle in your pile and take a brush to her hair, she tells you everything.

 

“Eggs,” you croak again, saying it out loud for the hundredth time tonight, trying to make it sound real and she nods.  “That is so weird.”

 

She laughs.  “Sollux, you shoot lightning bolts from your eyes on a regular bassis, you aren’t reely the best one to argue cases for weird biology.”

 

“No, that makes me an expert.”  You poke her cheek and she giggles again, hides her face against your chest.  At least she’s feeling better.  Even the fish puns are starting to make a comeback.

 

You’re still trying to process the information dump she just gave you, sort through the files to find all the key data points.  The gist of it is easy.  Fuschia bloods don’t reproduce quite the same way as other trolls.  It’s an old ploy the the Condesce left in place to control when and where her heirs showed up.  While the rest of troll kind evolved to make use of the mothergrubs, she and her daughters never lost the ability to produce their own eggs.  Not that those that came before FF had ever gotten a chance to use that themselves.  The Empress had always been swift to cut down a potential rival on a strict timer; old enough to be technically considered an adult and thus able to accept the challenge, not so old as to have produced any of their own offspring yet.  It’s only because of your success in rallying political support that she’s had to keep her distance this time.

 

That part was easy to grasp.  The exact how-to of the whole process is a little more sketchy to you.  The eggs FF has right now aren’t fertilized yet, you understand that.  And if they aren’t in the next few days apparently she will just pass them without much trouble, and they’ll never get to be wigglers or trolls.  If they are, there’s some weirdness about needing a safe place to host them, that place being the inside of another troll if you’re getting this all right.  It’s-

 

Yeah, you already said weird.  Not in a bad way, though.  You’re actually a little bit curious about the process, how it all works.  Being predisposed to your own oddities has kind of dampened any really visceral reactions to this kind of stuff.

 

She shifts to stretch, reaching half way across you from how you’re sprawled together, and you can still feel the little roundness of her tummy push against your skin.  A stray thought nudges into your other ones; wondering what it would be like to have that bump instead.  FF smothers a yawn against you when she finished with her stretch, and you can’t help but gather her up against and hold her to you.  She doesn’t need all this extra hassle, she has enough to deal with already.

 

As if she senses where your mind is heading, she nudges your chin and says, “Hey.”

 

You say, “What.”

 

“Don’t worry about this, it’s not a big deal.  I’ll wait a few days and be done with it.”

 

“You don’t have a few days, FF,” you remind her.  There’s a schedule, things need to happen and she needs to be the one to make them happen.  And, yeah, if you’re being honest here, you’ve missed being pailed half-stupid, as selfish as that might be.  Maybe you can shift things off a day or two, but if she can’t get back out of the base by then-

 

“I guess...” she starts then hesitates and looks at you oddly.  “I mean, the other option is fertilizing them.  If that happens then I can release them into a host early.  No waiting to pass them.”

 

“Oh.”  By host she means you of course.  You certainly aren’t going to round up strangers to volunteer.  The weird part is that... doesn’t sound entirely unpleasant.  There’s little hungry pang of want when you think about being filled up with your lover, carrying around a part of her to nurture and protect even when she’s gone.

 

“And there’s a chance, if something happens to me we might still have a chance to keep this together if there’s another heir for our allies to rally around.  It’s not a perfect plan but that’s better than no plan,” she adds.  You nod.

 

“It’s not a bad idea.  What happens after you transfer the eggs over?”

 

“You’d carry them around for a while until they’re ready to hatch.  Then they come out.”

 

“Out how,” you have to ask.

 

“The same way they went in?”  Her fins flutter, showing a little frustration.  “Sorry, that wasn’t helpful.  I really don’t have a lot of information about that part though.  Heirs aren’t expected to need it.”

 

“Yeah, no shit,” you scoff gently.  She’s still tense, agitated that she doesn’t have any quick or easy answers, but you weren’t honestly expecting them.  You start to gently rub her back, trying to sooth her again.

 

“If the information exists out there, I can find it.  You can stop worrying too.”

 

FF takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment before letting it out slow.  Her tension ebbs under your hands as you keep up your petting.  Then she frames your face in her palms, bringing your attention sharply into focus on her face and the deep frown pulling at her beautiful mouth.

 

“Sollux, I don’t want to do this if you aren’t one hundred percent okay with it,” she tells you, hushed and earnest.  Your heart gives a watery little flop, and you have to pull her up so you can press your forehead to hers and hide from the way she searches your face.  Sometimes she pours out more love than you think you can handle, more than you ever thought you deserved.

 

“I am, I do.  I want to do this.  With you.”  The words make it solid.  The vague notion you’ve been playing with gains weight, breath and life to become a need you never knew you would have.  When you cradle her head and pull her mouth to yours, you can feel the excitement cause your hands to tremble, but fuck everything, you want her so much.

 

Something must translate because she returns your favor full force, leaving any hint of hesitation behind.  She keeps breaking the deeper kisses to sprinkle softer ones over your lips, chin, cheeks and nose, and you chase her, hungry for everything.  There’s something different in the taste, warm like spring rain.  Every soft breath against your skin tingles, awakes something hot inside you.

 

You didn’t even notice her moving to straddle your lap until you feel her hips roll forward, pressing against your swollen sheath.  You both hiss out curses at the sensation.  Then she does it again, on purpose this time, with forceful little jerk at the end that makes you swallow so hard your throat clicks.  FF trails those tingling kisses up your jaw until she can nuzzle your ear and whispers so rough it comes out half purr, “Fuck me, Sollux Captor.”

 

You mean to say something sauve or even just a little sexy in reply but the only thing that comes out is a raged, “Yeth,” tongue catching on your teeth as your bulge surges free of its confinement.  She presses down against you, nook already leaking cool fluid as she slides teasingly along your length until you can slip one tip inside of her.  The other follows fast, twisting around its twin head to borrow deep.

 

You share another gasp, both unused to feeling each other’s bodies quite like this.  Normally you’re the one getting stuffed full of slurry.  This is different, but not totally foreign.  Just a little backwards.

 

When you try an experimental curl she murmurs her approval, so you try it again, then a harder one, sliding deeper into her, forcing her to unsheath too.  FF squeaks- literally squeaks and if that isn’t the cutest thing you have ever heard- but she rocks into your lap, eager nook taking in more of your length.  Your own clenches futily over nothing, empty and aching to be filled.  The thought that it will be very soon, so much more than ever before, leaves you whining.

 

You’ve never seen her writhe like this.  She bends forward, pins your shoulders back into the softness of your pile and starts pressing against you in an urgent, grinding rhythm, and it’s all you can do to keep up, hips lifting to meet her, pleasure her.  There’s something desperate in the lines of her body, straining and making you feel needed- it turns you on so hard.  She’s rutting herself on your bulge, fuck!

 

You’re close, so so close already.  You can feel everything building into a tight, sweet pressure inside of you.  You just need a little nudge over that line, that’s all.  Feferi’s head is bowed as she pants and moans, her hair draping around you in a dark curtain that surrounds you with her scent, and you want to breathe nothing more than this forever, have her flowing through every part of you.  Be filled with her.

 

The twinge that follows on the heels of that thought has you gasping.  It’s only a little thing, just a tease of an orgasm compared to what you need, but it gets you focused on what sparked it.  Getting fucked, getting _filled_.  You wonder what it’s going to feel like being stuffed with eggs.  Trying to imagine it makes you whimper; how stretched and heavy it’s going to make you feel, how good it will be to have this half-assed mutant body be useful for a change when she’s not here to please.  

 

Your hand leaves her hip, slips over the firm cushion of her ass and down past the space where you’re joined to her while she rides your bulge.  Fingers tease the entrance of your nook as you picture her doing the same thing with a dripping ovipositor.  You plunge them in with that image in your mind and keen high and loud, shivering with the first pulse of release.

 

She gasps too.  For the first couple seconds of discharge she’s still slick and soft around you, but then her nook clamps tight and it fucking _flutters_ , entrance to core.  It happens again sending both of you moaning.  Her body is milking yours, drawing your slurry into her brood pouch, and you just keep pouring into her, even when you feel like you’ve been wrung out.  It’s only when every aftershock of pleasure has died away and given over to being too sensitive that her nook sees fit to release you, letting your poor abused bulge retract.

 

With a little start of embarrassment you realize FF hasn’t really had her own orgasm yet.  There’s cold fuchsia material smeared over your stomach, but it’s certainly much less than you know she can give, and her bulge is still curling in little circles between you.  You reach for it, squeeze and stroke in an easy slide with fingers slick with your own yellow wetness from your nook.  Her head is still bent over you, eyes closed tight while she makes the sweetest little breathy noises at your touch, but her hand finds yours, stops you.

 

“Sollux, I don’t- hh... think that’s gonna work.”

 

“What’s wrong?”  You try to prop yourself up on an elbow, but you’re still shaky from a combination of physical exertion and post-pailing hormones.

 

“I need-” she hesitates and sucks her lip under her fangs.  “Do you think you’re ready for the next part?”

 

Are you?  You’re sex-drunk and tired, and part of your brain wants to just shut off for a long cuddle session, but the empty throb of your nook screams _yes please_.  And Feferi doesn’t look like she’s going to be able to wait much longer anyway.  She’s still squirming in our lap like she’s ready to pounce and pail you into a coma if you’ll let her.  God, being full of slurry and eggs might actually be uncomfortable for her.  She’s supposed to lay them, not carry them around herself.

 

You push up a little higher so you can plant a soft kiss on her chin.

 

“Yeah, go for it, I’m good.”

 

There’s no hesitation now; she slips down your thighs until the edges of your nooks are pressed together.  The pressure feels good, but it’s not quite-

 

Oh-

 

Fuck, oh nevermind, _that_ is-

 

Something thicker and stiffer than her bulge is pressing steadily into your opening, spreading you out around it.  It’s not the slow squirm you’ve felt before; it forces you open relentlessly with no adjustment period, and you choke back on scream.

 

“Sorry!” she says, “Does it hurt?”

 

“It’s... okay,” you pant and try to force yourself still.  That’s not really a lie.  It doesn’t hurt precisely, but the feeling is intense.  You weren’t as prepared for the physical aspect of this as you thought you were, but you’ll manage.  A change in position might help.  You fight through the shakiness in your limbs to push up into a sit and wrap your arms around her waist, pulling her close.  FF wraps around you like seaweed and sinks further in.

 

Like this you can spread your legs apart and take as much of her as she needs.  You still feel stretched, almost too tight like your insides are being pushed to their limit, but it’s not intolerable.  You feel a sharp pinch that makes you squeeze her tight when her ovipositor pushes past the opening to your genetic material bladder, but after that it seems she’s gone as far as she needs.

 

You can actually feel the moment she starts to lay, long before you get any eggs.  The muscles of her stomach bunch tightly and her claws scratch lines into your neck.  Contractions come in slow waves that translate as a rhythm of tension and relaxation through her whole body.  You can’t tell if this hurts or feels good for her.  Maybe it’s both.

 

When she starts rocking into you with the same steady rhythm, all you can do is smother a moan into her hair.  She fucks you open for your brood and sets an electric charge of desire right at the base of your spine.

 

The first thing you feel depositing inside of you isn’t an egg, but your own cooling genetic material.  Every neuron of pleasure left lights up in a chorus of want and draws out a sigh.  Your nook flutters, still stretched, but wanting to pull in more slurry, so that when the first swell of an egg does push tight against your slit, it works to draw that in too.

 

You never knew you could be pushed like this.  In reality the egg can’t be all that big, but it adds an extra ring of thickness to take in as it slips down inside of you.  Its weight is cold and foreign, nothing at all like slurry, but your body doesn’t treat it any different.  You still want more as it pushes out the walls of your bladder and settles into place.

 

FF has plenty more to give you.  The second egg leaves you breathless, a third has you panting harshly and shuddering as your nook twitches and spasms around it.  Between them you still take in more as she pumps your material back into you.  The fourth egg makes you come dry, and you lose count after that.

 

Your brain seems to come detached, floating in the ebb and flow it.  You become aware of so many little things; the thrum of her pulse as it pounds through you, matched to the same beat but slightly off time from yours, every sound and whisper she makes, each tiny roll and twitch of her hips, and almost-but-not-quite ache in your belly as you fill out with spawn.  It’s almost too much but you don’t want to stop, don’t even think you could.  All you do is cling to her and beg for more.

 

You aren’t even aware of when she’s done laying until you feel her ovipositor start to retract.  It leaves your inner muscles tender and sore in its wake, and now you’re starting to feel bloated rather than pleasantly full.  She’s purring, murmuring to you and stroking your neck and back in soothing circles as she pulls free.  You can’t manage words yet, all you do is groan.

 

“Are you okay?”  She sounds worried, and you can’t figure out why until her thumb rubs at the corner of your eye and smears the track of tears you’ve been crying.  You grab her hands in yours and kiss her knuckles.

 

“Fine, I’m-  everything is fine.  Everything is great.  I feel great.”  Wow, once you actually get your tongue moving it doesn’t want to stop.  Fucking fantastic.  Feferi doesn’t look terribly convince by your babbling.

 

“You sound like you drank some bad soporifics,” she tells you.

 

“Kind of feel like it too,” you admit.  You’re still a little woozy, and when she stops holding you upright you need to lay back or risk falling over.  You can feel the new load shift inside of you when you do.  Your hand wanders down to absently pet it, and you feel the cool paint of her drying material on your skin.  Oh, good she came after all. 

 

FF digs something to wipe you down with out of the pile and hands it to you.  She cuddles against your side once you’re relatively mess free and strokes the swollen lump.  That makes you feel oddly warm.  The way they sit in your skinny ass frame is more pronounced than it was on her.  You aren’t going to be able to hide it.  You make a mental note to tell KK first before he flips his tits finding out the hard way.

 

Beside you FF giggles.  “We’re both going to need another bath.”

 

“Yeah,” you agree, “can it wait though?  I want to stay here with you.”

 

Her smile is answer enough.  Your fingers tangle together over the egg bump, and you chirp your own reedy purr for her.  That warm feeling only spreads, making you limp and pliant.  If you had a choice, you would stay forever like this, so wrapped up in your matesprit that telling where one of you ends and the other begins is nigh impossible.  In a way, that’s what you’re fighting for.  Until now you never thought you would have even this much.

 

And now you share something else.  A sparking possibility for the future, new life starting beyond your enemy’s immediate reach. The warmth spills over in a flood that comes out as words as you pull her close and whisper, “So flushed for you, FF.”

 

She squeezes your hand and tells you, “Flushed for you too, Sollux,” in return.  It’s right.  Perfect.  Just like the eggs nestled inside of you, filling you with love for her.

 

In a few days she’ll have to leave again.  Everything will return to half-sleepless days, and nights full of worry, and planning and playing games in which the results can be deadly, but here, for now, in your meager sanctuary you can be safe and loved and filled with life while doom hovers at bay.


End file.
